Monday, May 19, 6:55 p.m.
I'm surrounded by clatter. Suitcases rolling across the tiled floor. American Eagle paging Captain Pearson. Businessmen shouting orders on their Blackberrys. And the sound of my own tears.
The little girl behind me can probably tell that I've been crying for the past 24 hours. My puffy eyes scream to the world that in Room 406 of the Holiday Inn Express Sunday night the mere thought of saying goodbye to my Southern Charmer was just too much to take. At now, sitting at Gate C19 of the Raleigh-Durham Airport, I've said goodbye. And I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest.
Those that have been there tell me it doesn't get any easier. That with time, the wound that is my Southern Charmer living hundreds of miles away from me will not get any easier. My sobs tell me that I already know this much is true.
My contacts ache. I can't see clearly anymore. By the time this has reached your eyes, I've said my Hail Marys 34,000 feet in the air, cried myself to sleep in the absence of Seth's comforting embrace and auto piloted my way to the offices of the Catholic Herald. But the longing and the emotions have not changed.
I still miss him.
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